Book 8: The Children of They Who Lived
by TheQuietGem
Summary: Warning: Contains SPOILERS of Book 7!19 Years after the Great Battle of Hogwarts, the children of they who lived and survived the blood bath face their own demons, coping with the stress of living up to their parents' expectations and reputations.
1. Anxious Albus

Book 8: The Children of They Who Lived

Chapter 1: The Syndrome of the Anxious Albus

Draco kissed his pureblood wife and nudged little Scorpius onto the Hogwarts Express. Harry nodded both to him and his wife, Marietta Edgecombe, the same once curly haired girl that ratted out Dumbledore's Army to that despicable Umbridge nearly twenty years ago. But all of that was forgotten, forgiven now, and all was well. Harry no longer held hatred in his heart for those who hurt him in the past.

Albus Severus Potter gave a cold look at Scorpius Malfoy, knowing full well he would be placed in Slytherin. He too feared the worst, and after his older brother had James teased him, he panicked. But Harry reassured his son that the House did not matter, for brave and kind wizards came from all different Houses, that he was named in part after one of the bravest men he knew, Head of Slytherin. Albus seemed to feel his heart beat slower and more relaxed, his knotted stomach untied itself as he jumped onto the Hogwarts Express, following after the red haired girl Rose, whom he had known for quite some time.

Once on the train, Albus followed the Weasley daughter into a small compartment, already occupied by a blond haired witch. She read a copy of the Quibbler upside down and wore a faded orange belt around her forehead as if a bandana.

"Hello," she said coolly and lifted her eyes briefly from the text. "You're the new Potter boy, aren't you?"

Albus sunk deep into his seat and gulped. So this was how his life would be at Hogwarts? Constantly reminded of his father and his mother, having to live up to the Boy Who Lived & the Girl Who Survived Riddle's Diary? His eyes darted over to Rose who grinned in return. Rose had enjoyed this treatment, Albus thought; she loved the fact that her parents helped defeat Voldemort and were best friends of Harry Potter, but all Albus could do was frown.

Not only did he have to live up to his parents, but also to those famous wizards he was named after, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. The girl coughed, bringing Albus back to reality, sitting on the Hogwarts Express. She must have been waiting for several minutes for the answer he desperately did not want to give.

"And who are you?" Albus asked, avoiding giving his own answer to the same question.

She giggled, as did Rose. Apparently Rose knew her and by the look on his amused face, Albus was supposed to know her too. After squinting at her face, he embarrassingly cupped his hands over his own. He had not seen her in years, almost five to be precise, at the wedding of Rebeus Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Then, the six year old little girl sat next to Professor Longbottom and his wife, whom his parents continually told amusing stories about, how she believed in as Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and Nargles.

"Alice Longbottom?" Albus squeaked just to be sure.

She nodded. "My brother, Xenophilius, is friends with your brother, James. I dunno why but your brother likes to give him all sorts of nicknames. Phil sometimes or Xenius another time and even Ophy- don't really get that one."

Albus remembered his brother James talking about an Ophy last year who had made the Quidditch team as one of the smallest beaters in decades. If he was going to live up to his expectations, he knew he had to start remember who people were and how his parents knew their parents. He was already hating the tasks ahead of him and could not understand how Rose sat there smugly, soaking in the attention like a plant smiling at the sun's radiant rays.

Suddenly they heard a loud crash from a few compartments over as if the trolley of sweets had collided with several students and the side of the train. Rose was the first to jump out of her seat and peer into the now crowded corridor. A lanky boy with ruffled brown hair stood wand to wand with a smaller and more timid wizard.

"You should have watched where you were going you stupid little -" started the lanky boy, but before he could finish another young wizard stepped in between the two.

"Put down your wand, Finnigan."

Charles Finnigan, son of Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott, grinned. "I was only playing."

"Playing at getting yourself expelled before we even start our first year?" Scorpius asked coolly. He had reacted perhaps out of a true concern over other's safety, or perhaps because his father had ordered his son to behave better than he himself did at Hogwarts.

Less confident in his stride, Charles replied, "Sorry. Don't know what got into me."

The fight, having ended before it started up, lost interest in Rose who simply shrugged and returned to the compartment. Albus could not understand why that boy Charles felt so angry at that small boy. He thought that the Houses had found ways to understand one another and that the hatred once forged between them had lessened considerably, especially in comparison to when his parents were in school. What could that poor boy have done to upset Charles so much as to draw his wand against him?

"My mother knew his dad for quite some time," said Alice. She had been talking of course about Charles' father.

"You mean Miss Luna Lovegood and Mister Seamus Finnigan? What do you mean knew?" asked Albus, feeling foolish once again but determined to live up to his expectations. He knew for sure that Luna was alive, having seen her at the wedding of Hagrid dressed in a light blue dress with white daffodils etched upon its trim. She was quite lovely looking. He could not remember having met Seamus, although he had of course heard about him from his parents.

Alice had a way about her much like her mother- with a wispy airy voice she replied, "Oh, he did not survive much longer after the Great Battle of Hogwarts. He had been afflicted quite badly, and although shared a relationship with my mother for many months prior to the incident, he feel ill quite suddenly and did not survive the following night. My mother was there when he died and felt quite sad. Not long after she looked to my dad for comfort, and well, here I am..." She trailed off and continued to read the Quibbler, her grandfather's kooky but still successful magazine, which had been passed on into the hands of her mother, the current editor.

"My mum was there too, when Mister Finnigan died," Rose interjected, feeling some urge to represent her mother proudly. "Not that she was very close to him, or anything, but you know with her abilities and all, thought she could help."

Rose's mother, Hermione, had studied many subjects at Hogwarts, and although showed little interest in becoming a serious Healer, knew many useful healing spells and charms. The dark magic that afflicted Seamus, however, could not be healed, as George's ear could not grow back.

"Is it always going to be like this?" asked Albus to Rose.

She played with her hair and shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know, like this," he said and turned his head to the compartment window where at least half a dozen wizards peered in to have a look at them. "We're not famous, we're not our parents. We haven't done anything like they have done. Why do they care?" Albus was more scared than truly asking questions, but Rose answered anyway in a somewhat annoyed voice.

"They care because their parents owe their lives to ours, and so they owe their lives too to them. We represent everything they have stood for," she explained to Albus. She seemed to have her mother's wits, having not set foot in Hogwarts but knowing much about it already. "I thought you of all people would know that. Hasn't James taught you anything about his first year, what it was like?"

Albus was well aware of what he represented, and the pressures his elder brother placed upon him, but couldn't quite prepare himself for the stares and looks of admiration on other students faces. He hadn't done anything like his father or mother, and yet instantaneously he gained as much recognition as they did. He felt an unfairness in the admiration he received for doing nothing but simply to exist. Did his father feel this way the first time he traveled to Hogwarts? 

"But I'm not my stupid, famous dad," he muttered. He had not realized anyone heard him, and having not really meant what he said, he was quite surprised when he found himself being beaten with a large book. The title of the massive book had been imprinted on his forehead, "SPEW: A Guidebook, by Hermione Granger." Rose placed the book back into her sack and clamored,

"No, Al, you're not- you're his son, who I'd hope and should give him a little more respect!"

He opened his mouth to apologize for his sudden arrogance, but instead crossed arms and slouched further into seat. He did not feel like arguing, knowing he did not mean to call his father stupid. He knew how much he admired his father as every wizard does. Instead of arguing, he gazed into the eyes of Alice across the compartment, who gazed down at her Quibbler which surprisingly gazed back at him. On the front cover of the new edition by Luna Lovegood was a moving image of Holyhead Harpies' new Captain, a Miss Lang, wearing dark green with gold trim. According to the subtitle, which Albus could barely make out with his poor eyesight, Miss Lang had replaced Gwenog Jones as of a few days ago and was looking forward to training with another new player, Miss Penelope Moonstar, the youngest female Quidditch player to play for an international team.

He couldn't believe it. This was same Penelope, beautiful Penelope, who's clear blue eyes were etched into dozens of posters plastered upon Albus's room. The very same lovely young witch whom Albus had had a crush on for three years, ever since his father took him to his first official Quidditch game at the age of nine. She was not on the Holyhead Harpies at that time, but had just graduated Hogwarts, the Gryffindor team captain. Of course, she was much too old for Albus, but his boyhood feelings overwhelmed him once again, seeing her sway in the background of the front page image of Captain Lang and he blushed.

Before he knew it, the Hogwarts Express had stopped abruptly and the bustling of students had alerted him that they had finally arrived. Just as he got up to gather his things, Rose elbowed Albus in the stomach. Just as Albus gave a wheeze, she said in a composed, stern voice, "You've told me time and time again that nothing in the world means more to you than attending Hogwarts and showing the world what you could do," she paused and bit her lip. "Please, don't disappoint yourself."

And with that, she left with Alice and her trunk, leaving Albus scratching his head in bewilderment. He mumbled to himself about being brave, head on his shoulders, or raise your head high, or don't jump ahead of yourself, or- he gave up and sighed. "I'm not my dad. I'm not my brother. I'm not my mother. I'm not Rose. I'm not, well, anyone… yet that is." He smiled, clutched his wand at his side and stepped off the train.


	2. All Sorts of Trouble

-1Chapter 2: All Sorts of Egged Troubles

She was crying. Her cheeks moist with trickles of tears, Alice stood behind Rose in the large line of witches and wizards in the Great Hall. Scorpius, ignoring her whimpers, stood behind her, and behind him was Albus, confused as to what prompted her upset state.

"Stop your worrying," said Rose calmly, adjusting her new robes. "It doesn't matter which House you get really, everyone knows that."

Alice shook her head. "You don't understand! I _have_ to be in Gryffindor."

"But your brother, Xenius, is in Ravenclaw. Your mother was in Ravenclaw. Why would you want to be in my House and not your family's?" Rose clamored. She had already determined herself as a Gryffindor from the start, almost being hypocritical of her last advice. She paused and patted Alice on the back. "Unless… Oh, I almost forgot. I'm sorry."

Alice wiped her tears. "You know my father is now the Head of Gryffindor, he was in Gryffindor his whole life here at Hogwarts, and he hated Ophy being placed in Ravelcaw last year... I can't bear to- Oh, he's looking at me again. I wish he stopped doing that," she paused to see her father, Professor Neville Longbottom, sitting nervously on the stage looking back at her; he waved his free hand, the other holding a cactus, and smiled.

"He got over Xenius being in Ravenclaw though," Rose said. She never called him Ophy like Alice or James, feeling as though it mocked his lack of wizarding talent somehow. His father even thought he was a Squibb for a while.

Rose continued, "I don't think he could be mad at you either way. The Sorting Hat will determine your fate. Oh, it's starting!"

The Great Hall was rather noisy until a silence fell upon all the students huddled together at their tables at the sound of the Headmistress of Hogwarts clapping her hands. She had started up a choir of musical songs and instruments. After a long few minutes, they stopped, and Professor Minerva McGonagall proudly took the stage.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For those of you who are new to Hogwarts, I give my warmest welcomes and ask that you stay in line and await your turn to be sorted into the four following Houses: Gryffindor," there was a cheer, "Ravenclaw," and another, "Hufflepuff," and another, "Slytherin," and one last cheer. "Before we sort out our newest wizards and witches, I must introduce the three newest members of our teaching community. On my right, Professor Oliver Wood, who will be teaching elementary flying and broomstick handling, along with coaching our Quidditch games. Professor Wood if you please."

She gestured to a man with short brown tresses, a Puddlemere United tie, and shining new broomstick with a ruby encrusted handle. He stood, waving to James and Ophy, whom he had taught lessons to many times last year as the assistant teacher to Madam Hooch; Hooch recently received another job offering in the world of Quidditch. Professor Oliver Wood, who had been Harry Potter's Quidditch captain in his early years of Hogwarts, cleared his throat and announced,

"I look forward to teaching every first year student how to fly with speed, agility, cunningness, courage," and looking over to McGonagall, "and of course safety."

She nodded and looked over to her left. "And also, please welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Venus Merrythought."

There were some whispers and murmurs around the tables. In line for the Sorting Hat, Scorpius rolled his eyes and stated, "She's Head of Hufflepuff. My father can't believe she's not a Slytherin like her parents." Not only did Albus shrug, not knowing who that was, but Rose surprisingly did not know either. "You know… Galatea Merrythought? Taught Tom Riddle!"

Albus knew that name… His father had killed him, as everyone knew, but the teacher, he knew little about. He was surprised that Scorpius Malfoy would care, but then again, his father would be keen to know who was teaching his son to defend against the dark arts; Draco Malfoy was almost driven to murder by Tom Riddle, to murder both Dumbledore and Harry Potter, and so Draco cared deeply about his son not receiving the same fate. It seemed, however, that this Professor Merrythought was not living up to those expectations by the look on Scorpius' face.

Apparently Professor Merrythought had just finished her speech, because a third new staff member rose, well, glided actually, across the stage. He was not new to Hogwarts, but to teaching he was indeed.

"Professor Nicholas shall teach alongside Professor Binns the History of Magic this year. He specializes in 15th century history, so any student particularly interested in this turning point in history should consider taking this special section, with his permission of course," announced McGonagall.

She motioned to the line of awaiting students who looked both eager and pain stricken to hear what house they would join. A few students started the parade by being placed into Hufflepuff. Professor Merrythought seemed rather too enthusiastic of these arrivals, hollering and hooting louder than a great flock of white owls.

"Rose Emily Weasley."

She turned her head to Alice, mouthing _'Don't worry' _as she skipped to the Sorting Hat. Its black lips curled, shouting rather quickly,

"Gryffindor!"

She smiled, ran to James and Teddy, and waited as Alice Lovegood crawled onto the stage, her face flushed of all color. She peered over to her father who sat with a smirk upon his aged face, a scar across his left cheek from the Battle so many years ago.

"_You are mixed within the Houses I see,"_ started the Hat,

"_A brave, brave soul but smarter you shall be,_

_Talent in both but this you cannot hide,_

_Gryffindor no… Ravenclaw I decide!"_

Professor Longbottom pretended his best to be happy for Alice, and gave her an approving nod. She wiped away a few tears and joined her brother Ophy. Professor Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw, gave a pat on Longbottom's back but could not hide his happiness as he grinned for his new arrival.

"She was placed into her mother's house," said Albus nervously, "not her father's. But, both of mine are Gryffindor… Shouldn't I automatically be there like Rose…"

As Albus contemplated this, he nearly missed Scorpius being placed into Slytherin. Some things never changed, as Albus caught a look of concern across McGonagall's face, perhaps reminded of relatives from many years past.

Professor Slughorn, once retired and then reemployed by the request of Dumbledore, sat at the Head of Slytherin and smiled as Scorpius joined his flock. By looks of his joyous expression, he must have been making a list of new Slughorn Club members with Scorpius etched at the very top.

"Albus Severus Potter!"

James whistled at the call of his brother's name. Several hundred wizards and witches turned their heads at the pink faced boy who merely crept onto the stage as if having a tail between his tiny robed legs. He shook his head, breathed in deeply and thought one clear, precise word, "Gryffindor" over and over again until he sat upon the stool center of the stage.

He glanced over at the crowds of already sorted students. Alice sat there holding back tears next to her brother Ophy at the Ravenclaw table. Scorpius smugly sat, already making best buds with a boy and girl Slytherin and was not paying much attention to the sorting of Albus.

"_Like your father you are, clearly are you,_

_You beg for his house and your mother's too,_

_But something intrigues me about your plea,_

_You, like your father choose another, see,_

_To be in another house not your own,_

_But clearly Slytherin is what is shown,"_

Albus's heart sank, peering over at the crowds awaiting their reaction, but they said nothing as if still waiting. To Albus's surprise, the Sorting Hat continued,

"_I may regret giving into your heart,_

_But yes… Gryffindor is where you shall start!"_

Professors McGonagall and Longbottom gave a roar of cheer as loud as the Gryffindor table as Albus joined his brother, Teddy and Rose. Although overwhelmed with relief, he found himself feeling somewhat guilty as he looked over at a sobbing Alice one table over.

"I knew it," Rose whispered to him. "James had his doubts, but I told him-"

"Shut up, I knew my little bro' would make it," interrupted James. "You'll make mom and dad proud."

That's what Albus was afraid of. Would he make them proud? What could he possibly do that would ever live up to his parents? But as he again looked over at Alice he realized he wasn't alone to living up to parents' expectations. She could barely look at her father, who had been Head of Gryffindor for only two years, as she sat at the table her mother once sat at.

Albus turned his head to Rose and James who apparently had started arguing over a class she had requested.

"Don't take History of Magic your first year!" clamored James. "You need to take Divination first, get it out of the way. You'll have to take it sooner or later."

"Not if my mother can help it. She doesn't want me near that class," replied Rose. "And what does it matter to you? I happen to like 15th century history!"

"Like it? How can anybody like 15th century history?! Or prefer it to an easy grade in Divination! I never did anything for the class and still passed with high marks."

Rose rolled her eyes at James. "It's not about an easy grade, James! Ugh, my father warned me you were like him."

"What is that supposed to mean?" James asked, red at the ears.

"Only that- oh, never mind. What classes do you have, Albus?" she asked, turning her head to read over a piece of parchment. She seemed to be scanning the list rather quickly and before Albus could even reply, she answered her own question.

"Oh, you have Beginner's Charms and Potions with, let's see, with Professor Flitwick and Slughorn, respectively of course... We share those classes at least, but nothing else. You have flying with Professor Wood too, but not at the same time… Albus? You're taking Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Merrythought?"

"Aren't you?" asked Albus.

"Of course, but not on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays… That's the second year level class!"

James seemed to turn a shade of pink. "You're in MY class? No way!" He grabbed the parchment of assigned courses and felt his hands shake in jealously. "How come you got to skip beginner's level? This must be a mistake."

"Well, your dad is an Auror," said Rose. "I suppose, maybe they thought…"

"We have the same dad, Rose!" yelled James. "If he skips a level- I didn't get to skip! I'm taking this up to the Headmistress!"

Rose shook her head. "Don't bother her right now. Maybe you should wait until classes start and ask Professor Merrythought. If she doesn't want Albus in her class, well, that'll be that."

Albus watched as the two argued about him without having asked him a word of what he thought. He hadn't realized his class was the same as his brother's. Their parents had waited to buy his books, hoping to get as many hand-me-downs from his brother as possible and maybe they didn't realize he wasn't in the beginner's level… Or maybe they knew and wanted him to share his book with his brother? But that was silly, they wouldn't do that without telling him, would they?

Watching his brother pound his fist into the table made Albus want to apologize, even though he didn't do anything wrong. Just as he opened his mouth, he heard a loud crack.

A small, frail creature stood at the front of the stage wearing a polka dot sundress without shoes. Within a matter of seconds, she had managed to rush over to Professor McGonagall who nodded calmly and started whispering to the Hogwarts faculty on the stage before announcing,

"Students, there is a small situation that is being taken care of as we speak, but until the matter has been cleared up," she started quite ambiguously, "I must ask that all students report to the dormitories with their Head Boy and Girl as quickly as possible."

McGonagall did not seem as alarmed at the arrival of the guest upon the stage as Rose was, who rummaged through her bag to find a thick book. Having pounded it onto the table, she whisked through the pages until she found an image bearing striking resemblance to the creature upon the stage.

"That's Winky, I knew it!" she hollered.

"The house-elf?" asked Albus. He knew much about house-elves, especially the one called Dobby, from his father.

Rose nodded. "According to my mother's book, she was the last house-elf of the Crouch family. She had been quite mentally unstable when working at Hogwarts, but the death of her friend Dobby strengthened her to continue the organization he admired quite dearly, SPEW…" Rose skimmed a few paragraphs before continuing. "Five years ago she was prohibited from ever attending Quidditch games at Hogwarts for causing a riot within the castle… Apparently she led several hundred kitchen workers, house-elves that is, onto the Quidditch field during a match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Captain Penelope Moonstar at the time nearly killed one with the Quaffle."

Albus blushed at her name, and said, "So this is that same Winky? But why is she-?"

"Probably another riot," laughed James.

"It's not funny," remarked Rose. "Who do you think makes our food around here?"

"Wait, you mean no lunch or dinner? Or breakfast!?" James looked mortified.

"If there's a riot…" said Rose. "But until we're told that, we shouldn't assume anything. Come on, our House is leaving."

And with that they got up from their table and followed the crowds of students back into their dormitories. Albus, like his father, did not like secrets and could not understand why Professor McGonagall couldn't just tell everyone there was a house-elf protest? Now that he thought about it, the less that made sense. The school year had not even started yet. If they were going to protest, why not do it when no one was around and demand, well, whatever they demanded then?

Albus heard muffles from the students passing by, their own theories of what was happening. As they started up to the dormitory, Albus noticed a large statue in the middle of all the moving staircases. It was hard to miss really. Twelve people etched in stone stood, many faces of which were rather familiar.

"To Those Who Fought Bravely and Died Here at the Battle of Hogwarts," Albus read the inscription at the top.

"My uncle," said Rose with a whimper. "Poor Uncle Fred."

Albus nodded. "I can see the family resemblance. I think it's the nose."

She smiled a bit and continued walking up the stairs as Albus stared at the other figures. A taller boy, at least eight years older than Albus, proudly pointed out two figures near the top of the monument.

"Those are my parents," he shouted. "Remus Lupin and Nymphodora Tonks. They were the bravest of the Order, gave their lives-"

He continued with his speech for what seemed like ages. James grabbed hold of Albus and with an amused voice said, "Teddy does that all the time. You gotta get used to it, it being his seventh year and all."

"Seventh year again you mean?" a snotty looking boy from the opposite stairwell pointed out. His staircase started to move toward their own but suddenly spun around to the other side, barely missing them.

"Shut up, Brutus," said James. "At least he had his reasons. You're repeating your sixth year aren't you? Something about failing Potions?"

The snotty boy clutched his wand from under his robe but was pushed along by his fellow Slytherin Scorpius. Albus watched as the snotty boy named Brutus shot a nasty look at Teddy who looked unfazed, continuing his somewhat lengthy speech about his parents.

"Well, anyway…" continued James, "Teddy does a lot of speech making."

Albus vaguely remembered his parents arguing some years back about the Kingsley boy being left behind and how they could not believe his adoptive parents would allow such outrage. Shacklebot wasn't the best adoptive father, but nonetheless, allowing Teddy to leave Hogwarts for two consecutive years for unknown reasons was not the best of parenting.

Albus, staring at Teddy's now orange hair, felt a strange sense of being an outcast. His parents didn't die in the fight like Teddy's... Feeling ashamed of his jealously for someone whose parent's died, Albus turned his head to the portraits of wizards hanging on the tall stone walls.

Suddenly an elderly woman's voice screamed,

"Get out! Get out now!"


	3. Murder Befoul

-1

Chapter 3:

"Get out! Get out now!"

The old woman named Violet screamed, the same woman who used to and still continues to get drunk with The Fat Lady during Christmas Break. She sat next to her in The Fat Lady's portrait outside of the Gryffindor common room.

"Oh really, Violet, you're causing such a scene," flustered The Fat Lady, attempting to push Violet back to her own portrait.

"What's the meaning of this?" Minerva McGonagall had rushed to the scene, her now white hair in a neat, beehive bun on top her head. Her half-moon spectacles reflected an angry look from Violet.

Violet bumped The Fat Lady, trying to push her away with her hip, causing her to fall down. "Let me speak, let me speak! You must not let the children enter this room!"

"If there is something important that needs to be addressed, then please, do speak up!" yelled McGonagall, which caught the attention of nearly every witch and wizard in the corridors.

With a look of triumph, Violet continued. "They are confused and lost, the helpers they are… Inside these walls there is a murder befoul! The leader is now dead because of _your_ carelessness!"

McGonagall's voice seemed to deepen as she replied, "Who? Where?!"

"Inside these walls! If you don't believe me, look for yourself!" shouted Violet, who now left the portrait of The Fat Lady and returned to the antechamber outside the Great Hall.

McGonagall followed Violet with great haste, and when arriving at the Great Hall, she saw the frail, lifeless body of Winky. She lay there, her big eyes glossy and unmoving. Her polka dot dress was tore in half, her pole thin legs poking out.

Completely mortified at the disturbance, having just seen her minutes ago, McGonagall closed the doors to the Great Hall and performed a charm to prevent students from entering. She then disappeared into her office without saying a word to the students huddled in the corridors.

"A murder! A murder!" screamed another voice floating above the students heads.

Peeves, giggling with delight, enjoyed taunting the students with this dreadful news. "A murder, a murder, and no one cares a bit! Just a little elf without a breathe, and no one cares a bit!"

Rose, having heard what everyone else clearly did, stood with tears glossing from her green eyes. She was about to yell back at Peeves, but James held her down, saying,

"Ignore the big ole' fool… I think its best that we get back to the common room where its safe."

Rose rolled her eyes. "There's been a murder, James! I don't think _anywhere_ is exactly safe!"

Albus stepped in to prevent yet another argument between the two. "Look, I agree with James." Rose glared coldly. "Let's just get out of here. It'll be ok, and maybe we can contact our parents… They've handled much worse and-"

"Just cause they've dealt with worse things doesn't mean everything will be ok!" Rose shouted, clearly still very upset at the death of the house-elf Winky. "You don't understand. Winky was their leader, and with her gone- well, all her progress will be lost. We may as well erase twenty years of protest and rebellion."

Albus, thinking carefully what to say, stepped forward. "She'll be a martyr, Rose."

"A martyr?"

He nodded. "Yes, to all the other house elves. She won't have died in vain… We'll make sure of it. Look, the crowd's moving back to their common rooms. We can discuss this there."

Rose, unhappy with the whole situation, followed James and Albus to the Gryffindor common room.

XXX

Ophy played with his pet ferret named Julius by dangling a dead rodent a foot on top of its cage. Alice looked in disgust, pulling her robe over her eyes so that she would not see the poor rodent chomped into tiny pieces.

"Oh, it's just a rat, sis," he said. "And he's already dead. Hit by a Muggle car and all. I think it was Mister Gorgan, the bald man that lives across the street."

Alice ignored his reasoning and refused to watch the feeding of Julius. She never liked his pet ferret ever since it bit her on the mouth last summer when she tried to kiss it. Like her mother, Alice was not afraid of any creature- well, except for Julius.

"If dad knew you brought him here, he'd have a fit," said Alice. "He told you to leave it home."

"And let mum dress it up and overfeed it? No," replied Ophy. "He's better off here with us. Look, I think he likes you. Don't you, Julius? Yes you do, you like our little sister."

"Our little sister?" Alice raised her brow. "That thing is not apart of our family. He's mean, nasty-"

Ophy shook his head. "Just misunderstood, that's all."

Ophy had a way about him much like Hagrid- he loved the nastiest, meanest creatures with the excuse that they weren't so bad. Alice, on the other hand, loved everything until they did something to upset her- perhaps she got this from her father.

A black haired girl with splashes of brown freckles ran toward Alice and Ophy who sat huddled in the Ravenclaw common room. She seemed rather concerned and shaken, her thick limbs wobbling, as if something terrible had occurred.

"Pro, Prof, Professor Long, Longbottom has requested to talk to you…" she said in a scared voice.

Ophy yawned. "I wonder what dad wants this time. He always checked up on me last year, Alice. Every other week he was popping in here unannounced, checking to see if I needed help on _his_ homework assignments. Bet you he just wants to make sure we have all our books ready."

Professor Neville Longbottom emerged into the Ravenclaw common room looking rather badly out of place. He wore a black, floor-length robe embroidered with red and gold trim and a Gryffindor badge. Although normally other House members, even the Head of the House, would not be allowed in another's common room, Professor Longbottom was an exception. Flitwick gave him special permission the year before when requested to check up on his son occasionally. Longbottom abused this permission frequently to visit his son, and now seemed to be abusing his power once more.

Before his father could say a word, Ophy started, "Yes, I have all my books. No, Alice cannot borrow my Potions book, so you better get her a new one. Yes, she can have my Herbology book, unless you want her to have her own set. And yes, I got the chocolates from mum."

"That's all well and good, Xenophilius, but that's not why I'm here," interrupted Longbottom. "You and your sister must stay in your room tonight and not leave under any circumstances unless I tell you to."

Alice looked over to her brother with a bewildered face. "But dad, we just got here! I want to go explore the castle a bit! Ophy promised me a tour and-"

"No!" shouted Longbottom, scaring his daughter to cower a bit. "There has been a mu… an accident, sweetie. Daddy is going to see what he can do to help. Ophy, I'm trusting you to look after your sister."

"But dad," he began to protest.

"No if's, and's and but's… I will be here in the morning after the sun rises. Please do behave yourself- at least as beast as you can, Ophy," said Longbottom, realizing his son had a knack for getting into other people's business.

Last year, during his second month at Hogwarts, Ophy found himself in the girl's bathroom looking under and over several stalls. He claimed to have been looking for his friend, but Professor Flitwick, who caught him in the act, knew fully well that Ophy had no female friends.

During Christmas holiday Ophy found himself again in trouble, especially with his father, when he sent home a box of Canary Creams to his sister from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, run by George & Percy Weasley. Not only did Alice eat the entire box, but she remained in the transfigured form of a canary for several hours until she finished molting all over the Longbottom kitchen.

"So you've heard?" whispered the black haired girl from before. She approached Alice and Ophy once their father left the common room.

"That we need to stay put, yeah," Alice said.

"No, about that poor house elf… Dead…"

"Dead? That creature in the Great Hall? How?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Nobody does. Didn't your father tell you that?"

Ophy angrily shook his head back. "No, he didn't."


	4. The Potters' Potential

-1Chapter 4: The Potters' Potential

"Stop it. Put the feather down," Ron ordered from across the Burrow's living room.

Hermione Weasley sat crossed legged, a feather quill in her writing hand and a long piece of parchment in the other. The paper was rolling off a chestnut desk, flowing from the table top to the ground below.

"It's been over two weeks, and I've only written to her once! Especially with what's happening… She might be devastated!" Hermione shouted back.

Ron rolled his blue eyes at her. "And she wrote back telling you she was going to be a little snoop and research the whole thing in the library…."

"What's wrong with that?" Hermione questioned.

"Cause she sounds exactly like you…"

Hermione hissed and growled, then continued writing. "There's nothing wrong with a little research, Ronald."

Adjusting his Muggle shirt, Ron walked across the room, nearly tripping on an old, thick rug carpeting the wooden floor. He hovered over Hermione's shoulder as she wrote 'Love and kisses' at the bottom.

He coughed, forcing her to turn her head slightly to acknowledge his presence. "McGonagall insists that our children are safe at Hogwarts and that the murder two weeks ago was nothing more than an accident, not a murder at all. I see no reason she would lie to us."

"_No reason_, Ron? She has _every _reason! If she told us that a murder truly happened don't you think half the school would have been brought home? She obviously knows who did it and has taken matters into her own hands… I just wish she trusted us enough to tell us who that was."

Ron looked baffled, his lips curled in a confused smirk. "But, Hermione, if you know there was a murder, or believe there was I guess, then why aren't we taking Rose out of school!?" 

"Because she's safe there and figuring stuff out on her own. Imagine every time we snuck off to the lib- okay, when I snuck off to library to research things I shouldn't have. If my parents knew and understand half those things, I would have been taken out of Hogwarts my first year!" Hermione shouted to Ron, who again still looked baffled.

"You want our little girl to stay in a school where a murder just took place because you want her to research?! She can do that here! She's not you, Hermione! She's our little girl that needs our protection! _My_ protection if you aren't willing to do it."

Hugo entered the room, his shirt untucked and messy. He held a cookie indented by one bite in his left hand, and a blue blanket full with a cuddly teddy bear print in the other. A sleepy look encrusted his eyes that only now slowly opened to his parents' arguing.

"Mum, Dad, did I just hear-" he yawned and continued, "did I just hear-" another yawn.

Ron sighed. "Go back to bed, Hugo."

"No," interrupted Hermione. Ron glared at her as she continued, "No, you should hear this."

Ron's face glowed with a crimson shade. "Go back to bed, now!"

Hugo, horrifically confused by his contradicting parents, obeyed neither of them. Instead, he dragged himself one sleepy foot after another into the kitchen for a glass of cold, white milk.

"Don't you ever do that again! The nerve of you," said Ron to Hermione who seemed just as angry.

"The nerve of _me_? You want to shield our son from the truth."

"Oh, he's just a boy, Hermione! He doesn't need to be stricken with fear about Hogwart's for the rest of his life. Rose has enough to deal with and-"

"Hugo needs to know! Rose will write to him and tell him as she's told us! Don't you think we should tell him and not his sister, just a year older than him?!"

She had a point there. Ron was about to respond by gut instinct, to yell at her once more, but instead he caught of a glimpse of Hugo in the kitchen, his little hand stuck instead his glass of milk, trying so very hard to dip his bitten chocolate chip cookie.

"We'll tell him first thing in the morning," sighed Ron. "But only what he needs to know."

"He'll need to know _everything_."

XXX

Classes resumed as normal for the two weeks after Winky's death. An alarming amount of students found this suspicious and were extra careful to clean up after themselves, in fear of running into a house-elf and witnessing yet another horrific murder scene.

Albert prepared himself for his course with Professor Merrythought by not preparing at all and by not borrowing his brother James' book. His parents had purchased him the same beginner's book that Rose had received. Relieved that this was somehow a mistake, he told his brother the news who happily hugged him and all seemed forgotten. Until the first day of class that is.

Professor Merrythought was a tall woman, with thin, dead strands of light blonde hair that crowned a pointed head. She wore a blue, pan shaped hat with a white feather sticking out of the side, held down by a ivory velvet ribbon.

She wore a matching suit, which included a jacket, vest and just below the knee skirt. Thick, ivy green army boots covered her rather petite feet, throwing off the neatness and niceness of her outfit entirely.

Standing in front of the class, which included an anxious James and a patient Albus, Merrythought tapped her Maplewood wand three times in the air. Every wizard and witch's book flipped open to the introduction of "The Dark Arts: Intermediary Defense."

"Good afternoon," she said in a light, whispering voice. "I am Professor Merrythought. As many of you already am aware, I am the daughter of the late Professor Galatea Merrythought, my mother. She was a fine teacher, and I shall follow many of her old teaching plans. I may look young," she said as she played with her hair a bit, "But I have lived a long, eventful life! I lived through the Great Battle of Hogwarts." The class seemed to perk at this, including James, who was already blushing at his attractive new teacher. "Not at Hogwarts, but within the Ministry. I witnessed the overturn and the revolution afterwards. If my mother had not taught me how to defend myself, then I would not have survived. My experience will serve all of you well."

James raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"I'm James, James Potter," he started.

"Oh, yes, I am well aware that you would grace my class! And your brother as well."

Albus raised his brow. She knew he was there? Knew he was supposed to be there? Maybe she just recognized him sitting in the class. She was going to talk to him after class. Yes, that must be it, Albus convinced himself of it.

"Yes, my brother is here. I thought this was a second year class, and if I'm not mistaken, which I'm not, my brother is a first year," James pointed out.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Albus' turned pink and slunk back into his chair. Expecting Merrythought to throw him out, levitate him away, Albus closed his eyes tight and waited.

Suddenly, Merrythought snapped her wand in the air and a jar of sand appeared. She smiled at James who looked back puzzled. "Do you know what this sand measures, Mister James Potter?" He shook his head. "Thought not. It measures potential. You have this much." The sand jar tilted and a few inches of sand fell to the bottom. Suddnely, Merrythought snapped her wand again and another nearly identical jar appeared, this one with just a little more sand. "Mister Albus Potter, do you know what this is?"

It took Albus a few seconds to realize she was addressing him. "Um, my, my potential?"

"Very good! 5 points to Gryffindor," she said. "So you can see, Mister James Potter, that your brother has the same, and perhaps a bit more, than you and thus deserves to be here. If any one else in this class would like know their potential-" Several wizards and witches looked up excitedly, wanting to know if they had more than the Potter boys.

Merrythought continued, "then I suggest you look deep within yourself and discover through vigorous studying what you can accomplish." There were several moans at her answer.

Class continued on with Merrythought reading aloud the introduction. Albus turned to his brother James who made every effort possible to look away. After one last attempt, Albus decided for sure that his brother would never speak to him again.


	5. Bodies at the Battle of Towton

-1Chapter 5: Bodies at the Battle of Towton

Professor Oliver Wood was an excellent flying coach. Rose, along with Alice and a Hufflepuff girl named Charlotte, giggled every time their handsome professor helped them gently take off the ground. Albus huddled with two of his own friends, a Gryffindor boy named Will Johansen, and a Ravenclaw named Quinn Victor. For the past week, Albus and Rose barely socialized with one another, Rose being quite busy with her fellow girl classmates.

For you see, during the third week of classes, Rose strongly believed that Professor Wood had a particular liking for her, helping her nearly twice as many times in class as her female friends. And she wasn't the only one to notice.

"He fancies you," said Charlotte quietly after class one day.

Alice shuddered. "Ew, Charlotte, he's our professor! That's so wrong."

The girls hurried across the Quidditch field, each with a basic broomstick in each hand. Rose turned her head slightly around to catch a glimpse of Professor Wood staring at her across the way. She giggled happily and said,

"Yes, there! He did it again! He looked at me!" she smiled so brightly you would have thought she was projecting a Patronus charm.

Charlotte jealously glared over at the Professor who didn't seem to care one way or the other that she was staring at him. "I can't believe he would like a first year? Isn't that against rules or something?"

"Stop it, both of you. He _can't_ like you like that Rose. He's what, 40 years old or something?" said Alice who played with a thick hem bracelet on her wrist.

Rose again smiled. "In six years it won't matter. I'll turn seventeen, and I'll be of age, and we can be together!"

Alice suddenly jumped in front of Rose, a panic look in her face. "Stop fantasizing about that stuff, Rose…"

"What? He's dreamy! And he fancies her," said Charlotte. "If they get married, oh, they're children would be the most handsome or beautiful."

Charlotte herself was no eye pleaser, with very short, blunt cut hair that made her look very boyish. If it were not for her skirt and high pitched voice, you could have easily mistaken her for one.

"I wonder if he's ever been in love," said Rose. "I mean, I don't plan on dating him until I'm of age. I'm not that stupid. But when I turn seventeen, I hope he admits his feelings about me and-"

"Rose, stop it!" screamed Alice, her face more horror stricken than before.

Rose rolled her eyes and continued. "You're just jealous. Never been kissed, Alice? Never had a boy ask you out? I've had so many offers, no wonder you're jealous."

"I warned you!" yelled Alice and stormed away. The two remaining girls continued to walk and shrugged.

Charlotte sighed. "I wonder what he problem was."

"Jealousy," said Rose quickly.

"Or a good friend of her parent's," said a man's voice from behind.

Alice wasn't jealous at all. She was simply warning Rose and Charlotte that Professor Wood was slowly walking up behind them and could hear _everything_ they were talking about, every little fantasy that popped into little Rose's red haired head.

"Prof, Prof, Proffess," stuttered Charlotte.

"You two have professed enough already," he said coolly. "I believe I owe you an explanation for this past week's behavior. Ever since the incident, I have been keeping an eye on you Rose. I knew your parents here at Hogwarts, and they expressed great interest in hearing I was teaching one of your classes. Ron has particularly warned me about you."

"Warned? About me?" said Rose. "My father knows I would _never_ cause trouble in your class! I don't understand."

Wood casually slicked his thinning tresses and continued walking with the two girls. He suddenly stopped, looked around to make sure no one was listening, and continued.

"He wants to make sure you're alright with _the situation_. Nothing more."

Rose frowned, abruptly realizing that her fantasy bubble had been popped. There was no future with him- he wasn't interested in her, he was simply spying on her to make sure she wasn't getting her nose in too deep. She hadn't had much time to research, having only checked out two books on the policies of Hogwarts, which told very little about the rules a Headmistress can enforce, and another book on the revolt of house-elves, which only gave her the same facts she knew about Winky's rebellious history.

Winky had no living relatives, and thus there was little inquiry on her disappearance in the wizarding world. Most did not know she was dead, and those that did simply felt sorry for the house-elves for losing a dear friend. Little did they know that Winky had very little friends. Many house-elves looked up to her, but never actually spoke to her, shared an evening of discussion with her, or befriended her in anyway. Her rebellious history was simply that, history, and she was just a walking statue of her achievements. Poor, dead Winky.

XXX

Albus decided for sure that his brother would never speak to him again. Weeks went by from the incident with Merrythought and each class time they shared was as silent as the last. For the most, they finished there assignments at the same time, performed just as well at tasks and could have been identical twins if not Albus was four inches shorter with a troubled look upon his brow.

"He'll never speak to me again, Quinn," said Albus one day at dinner time. They had just left Potions with Slughorn, who simply could not see any talent in him. 'Don't have your grandmother's skill, do you? Nope. Nothing.' he would say. Albus wanted to shove this in James' face, that he wasn't better than him, but James would not talk to him.

Quinn Victor was a rather large child for his age. His stomach was round, his face was round and his fingers were of course, you guessed it, round. Albus could easily see why as Quinn gobbled down three servings of pumpkin pie with whipped toppings smothering the edges.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll come around," reassured Quinn. "Brothers always do."

Albus sighed. "You're an only child, Quinn…"

"Yeah, but my pet pig is like a brother. He always comes around after we have an argument," said Quinn, now gulping down two glasses of juice.

"You're pet pig comes around because you always have food in your pocket. I don't think that'll quite work on James, you know, although it might lure him just a bit," chuckled Albus.

A loud thud hit the table. A book titled 'The History of 15th Century Magical Politics' slammed against a metal fork that flew into the air and landed a few inches away from Quinn's last chunk of pumpkin pie. Albus quickly turned around to see Rose flipping through the pages to chapter eighteen.

"You're already three hundred pages into that thing, aren't you?" said Albus, not surprised at all.

"No…" she said eagerly. "I found something about _the incident_."

Albus had a look of worry in his eyes. "Something, meaning something bad?"

Rose pointed at the page in front of her and said, "Well, it isn't good… Sir Nicholas today went over political uprisings in the 15th century. House-elves were barely mentioned, or well, not at all until I asked him about it. He simply said, 'They did as they were told and nothing more.' I think he thought that was a safe answer, but he really did answer me-"

"We know they were and are servants," said Quinn. "That's nothing new. I even know that!"

Rose, who didn't really know Quinn, ignored him and continued, "He answered perfectly. In the 15th century no house elf was ever recorded trying to ask for freedom. But that simply can't be true."

"It's true," said Quinn again. "Or else it'd be in that book of yours."

"You moron, it is," said Rose triumphantly. Quinn frowned and looked over at the page. "March 29 of 1461, during the Battle of Towton, seven dead creatures were found on the bloody battlefield. The surviving Muggle soldiers fighting removed the bodies when they paused in battle, believing these to be young children.

"After the battle, the two of young Muggle soldiers who found the bodies survived and searched for them, but none were found. Magical authorities at the time believed these creatures to be elves, but had no theories as to why they were on the battlefield that bloody day."

Rose stopped after the second paragraph on the page and looked over to Albus. "You see? They did revolt! But nobody really recorded it."

Quinn merely laughed at her. "She's nuts. Where did you find this girl? Thinking that a bunch of Muggle children were revolting elves? She's a loony."

"Shut up, pug face," said Albus, who for the first time felt as if he could truly stand up for someone, even if it wasn't himself. "She's my friend, and she's much smarter than you'll ever be, so if she thinks those were elves, then they were!"

"Sorry to offend your girlfriend, Al," said Quinn mockingly. "I'll be sure to be nicer next time."

"Ignore him" said Rose calmly. "We have to write to our parents and tell them about this."

"Writing to your parents, eh? Think they'll buy into your holed theory?" mocked Quinn once more.

"Well, I suppose my mother and father would believe, having defeated Voldemort alongside his parents," she said and pointed to Albus.

Quinn turned pale. "You're _that_ girl? I, I-"

"You didn't mean to be a jerk to me 'cause my parents are famous? Is that it?" asked Rose. "You're pathetic. Albus, you shouldn't hang around people like him. They only respect you 'cause of what your parents did."

Quinn tried to give a look of asking for forgiveness, but Albus turned away. "You're right. We need to write to our parents." He stood up, about to walk away from the table with Rose when he turned his head slightly to Quinn who sadly poked his remaining piece of pumpkin pie.

Suddenly, it hit Albus. He was going to ignore Quinn just as James was ignoring him. He was going to hold a grudge against the boy for doing something stupid, and in the end, his silent treatment would only cause more pain, with nothing solved at all. Albus tapped Quinn on the back who turned around nervously, expecting a punch in the face.

"I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow," Albus said and walked off with Rose.

Quinn seemed to have been lifted ten feet of the ground by the grin on his face. He shouted back as Albus and Rose left, "I'm sorry for what I said!"

"I know!" shouted back Albus.

The anger that Albus had held for only a few minutes toward Quinn had disappeared and he felt that much lighter and happier for it. If only his brother could do the same for him as he did for Quinn.


End file.
